


'Till You Feel the Daylight

by aubreyli



Category: Glee, Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Rough Sex, Sex Pollen, Threesome - M/M/M, Underage Sex, incestuous overtones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-23
Updated: 2012-03-23
Packaged: 2017-11-02 09:47:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/367654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aubreyli/pseuds/aubreyli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A "Fuck or Die" scenario, facilitated by a convenient plot device (also known as a lust spell)</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Till You Feel the Daylight

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Melissa Ferrick's "Drive," which I had playing on loop as I wrote this.

Out of the three of them, Dean and one of the kids (and _shit,_ Dean thinks, _they really are just kids_ ), get hit the hardest.  The kid – Kurt – is already writhing and panting in the backseat, hands desperately tearing at his clothes.  The other one, Blaine ( _that’s not a name, that’s an appliance,_ his brain unhelpfully supplies), is still unconscious.  He’s probably going to have one hell of a goose egg when he wakes up, but at least he’s not concussed or hey – _dead_.

 

Dean tries his best to not look at them, hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel and gritting his teeth to fight the heat that roils and churns and grows deep in his belly with every passing second.  The kids will be fine – they’ll have each other, but Dean needs to get back to the motel _now,_ find Sam (and _God,_ how fucked up is his life that fucking his _little brother_ is actually the _lesser_ of two evils?) and take care of this before it burns him alive.

 

“Dean,” Kurt moans urgently, his bare skin just pale enough to be visible in the dark car.  “Dean, it _hurts._ I—I feel like I’m burning up.”

 

 _Fuck,_ the kid’s practically young enough to be his _son,_ and his brain is screaming at him to get it together, but _damn_ if that high, reedy voice of his isn’t going straight to Dean’s cock.  “It’s the spell,” Dean growls out, tensing his thighs to keep them still.  “It’s designed to raise your body temperature until you die, unless it gets fucked out of your system.”

 

“Oh, so that – that thing back there, it really was—”

 

“Yeah,” Dean says, and if he wasn’t feeling like clawing off his own skin, he’d totally be kinder and more sympathetic toward yet another kid who’s probably never going to look at the dark the same way again.  “It was a demon.  But don’t worry, lust spells are easy to get rid of.  As soon as we get back to the motel, I’ll get you and your boyfriend a room, okay?”

 

Kurt doesn’t say anything, and Dean looks up at him through the rearview mirror, worried, and nearly swerves off the road when he sees that the kid’s got his cock out and is trying to jerk himself off, face flushed and mouth bitten-red.  “H-how much longer?” he asks.

 

Dean checks the dashboard clock.  “Half an hour, forty minutes, max,” he says, and even as the words are leaving his mouth, he knows that the kid’s not going to be able to last that long.  Hell, he’ll be lucky if _he_ can last that long, and fumbles for his cell phone so that he can send Sam a text message:  _Lust demon. Ganked it but got hit. ETA 30._   He doesn’t bother waiting for Sam’s reply before he tosses the phone onto the passenger seat.

 

For the next ten minutes, Kurt does nothing but jerk off, his shaky, desperate moans punctuated by sharp gasps and cut-off whimpers.  Dean hears him come, again and again, and he wishes he had thought to bring earplugs or something, or an icepack, because he’s pretty sure his dick can cut glass by now.  It’s not just the way the kid sounds when he’s jerking off, or the little frustrated wails he makes after he comes, because Dean knows that masturbation is useless and actually makes you feel worse, but you can’t help wanting to keep doing it.  It’s the insidious, oily voice in his head that whispers, _You know what he needs, he’s begging for it, just do it fuck him fuck him fuck him fuck him,_ and it’s all Dean can do to grit his teeth and push the car just a little faster.

 

“D-Dean,” Kurt says, after a while, and _fuck_ , he sounds _wrecked._ “Dean, I don’t—I don’t think I can last.  It _hurts,_ Dean, I feel like I’m on _fire_.”  He reaches one hand behind his back and starts to squirm, and Dean’s blood pounds in his ears when he realizes that Kurt’s fingering himself.  “Dean, _help_.”

 

“Look, kid—” he starts, as the voice in his head goes from a whisper to a fucking _scream_.

 

“ _Please,_ ” Kurt sobs, and it’s such a small sound, almost defeated, like he’s not used to asking for help and getting it.  It kind of breaks Dean’s heart a little, even through his fog of need, and that, more than anything else, is what makes him pull over and turn off the engine.

 

“Hike your legs up,” Dean orders him, “Blaine’s too.”  Once Kurt complies, he releases the catch on the front seat bench and pushes it down, unfolding it so that it meets the backseat, forming a continuous mat.  Dean shucks off his jacket, two layers of shirts and his pants, tossing them all over his shoulder as he crawls toward the two teenagers pressed against the back of his car, one still unconscious; the other wide-eyed and shaking.

 

Shit, the kid looks fucking terrified (of _course_ he didn’t know what he was asking for, he’s just a fucking _kid,_ you sick fuck) and Dean’s just about to fold the front seat back up and _keep fucking driving_ when Kurt makes a soft, needy sound and spreads his legs.  His dick is rock hard, and still freshly wet with come, and he looks so fucking _wanton_ that Dean literally has to close his eyes and force himself to not just grab him and pound his pretty little ass until he cries.

 

“You sure you want this, kid?” Dean asks gruffly, when he opens his eyes again.  “Because once we start, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to stop midway, so if you’ve got any doubts, you gotta tell me now.”

 

Kurt nods jerkily, and visibly swallows.  He doesn’t say a word; instead, he turns around and bends himself over the back rest, arching his back just enough to expose the little pucker between his ass cheeks.  “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and Dean’s pretty sure Kurt’s not talking to him.  “It just—it just _hurts_ so badly, and I, I _need_ —I’m _so_ sorry.”

 

Dean sighs and reaches into the glove compartment, feeling for the condoms and lube that he keeps stocked in there.  He rolls a condom over his cock with a hurried impatience that has less to do with the lust coursing through his veins and more with wanting to get this over with so that he can get back to the motel and drink until he forgets that he pretty much _raped_ a kid, no matter how much he wanted it at the time. 

 

“You ready?” Dean asks, one last time, as he slicks up his fingers.  Kurt’s skin is dangerously hot; he can feel the heat radiating from it even from a good six inches away, and Dean’s pretty impressed that he’s managed to hold out for this long, as is. 

 

He presses a fingertip at the rim of his anus, where his skin is the hottest, and waits for Kurt to moan and rock back on it before he pushes in, slowly but unrelentingly, all the way to the knuckle.  Kurt’s even hotter inside than he is outside, tight and pulsing around his finger in a way that sends waves of heat travelling up his arm and down his back to pool low in his gut.  He cries out when Dean slides the finger in and out of him, thrusting back against it in eager, jagged little movements. 

 

By the time Dean has three fingers pumping in and out of Kurt’s ass, the kid’s full-on fucking himself on Dean’s fingers, moaning continuously and shamelessly rolling his hips to get them in deeper.  Dean’s panting now, too, and he rubs his dick along the crack of Kurt’s ass, as he curls his other hand around Kurt’s thigh.  He fingers Kurt until every fiber of his body is shrieking that Kurt’s ready, that he needs to fuck him _now now now,_ until Kurt’s swearing and begging that it’s enough, that he needs _more,_ “Dean, your _cock,_ I need it in me, _please_ ,” and even then, he stubbornly forces himself to keep going.  He’s been through this kind of thing enough times to know that the spell makes anything and everything feel fantastic, but as soon as the spell ends, the pain comes back, and Dean figures he’s already going to traumatize this kid enough, without adding a sore ass to the pile.

 

He fingers Kurt until he can’t take it anymore, until he’s so hot that his head is swimming.  Then he pulls out all three fingers at once – Kurt sobs and begs him to please put them back, _please_ – lines himself up, and thrusts in one, deep, continuous stroke.

 

Kurt fucking _screams_ when Dean bottoms out inside him, and twists his head back to look at Dean, pupils blown wide and so flushed that his cheeks are almost the same color as his lips.  “Oh God, fuck me,” he begs between harsh gasps for air, bracing his hands against the leather seat back to give himself more leverage to meet Dean’s thrusts.

 

Dean growls and impulsively kisses Kurt’s red, bitten mouth, choking off Kurt’s little startled moan with his tongue.  He sits back and hauls Kurt with him, letting the kid topple against Dean’s chest.  He holds Kurt’s thigh with one hand and slams back into him, hard and deep, and Kurt cries out again, and then goes sharply and suddenly silent.

 

Dean’s eyes snap to Kurt’s face.  The fear that Dean’s hurt him is like a plunge into ice water, and shoves the searing heat back enough to let him stop moving.  But Kurt doesn’t look pained; he looks horrified, and scared.  He’s also not looking at Dean.  Dean follows the line of Kurt’s gaze to land on Blaine, the _boyfriend_ , _Kurt’s_ teenage boyfriend, whose eyes are wide, wide open.

 

“Blaine,” Kurt breathes, and there is a world of guilt and sorrow in that word.  But even then, Kurt doesn’t try to move off Dean’s cock. 

 

Aw, damn, the kid looks like he’s about to start crying, and Dean’s done a lot of things he’s not proud of, and he’s _been_ a lot of things he’s not proud of, but one thing he’s never been is a fucking _homewrecker._ But Blaine doesn’t look like he’s about to dump Kurt on the spot; in fact, he looks... almost fond, and also?  More than a little bit turned on.

 

That’s right, Dean thinks, as he glances down at the raging boner tenting Blaine’s pants, he almost forgot: Blaine got hit with the spell too. 

 

“Blaine,” Kurt says again, pleadingly, as Blaine crawls toward him, but whatever he wanted to say afterwards is cut off by Blaine leaning in and kissing Kurt, open-mouthed and with enough force to press Kurt back against Dean’s chest.

 

The kiss doesn’t last for very long, but Kurt still looks dazed when Blaine pulls away.  “Uh,” he says, then blinks rapidly, shakes his head, and tries again.  “Blaine, I’m so sorry, but there was this _spell,_ and everything just _hurt_ s—mph!”  He’s interrupted again by Blaine kissing him, longer and harder this time, one hand cupping the back of Kurt’s neck to tilt his head for a better angle.

 

This time, Blaine’s smiling when he pulls back, stroking Kurt’s sweaty face in gentle, soothing strokes.  “I’m not mad,” he says quietly, reassuringly.  “How could I be?  You saved my life.  If you hadn’t come for me, I would be...” He pauses, clearly trying to think of a nice way to say, _a dismembered corpse on a lust demon’s sacrificial altar_ , and failing.  “Thank you,” he says instead.  “And I know about the spell; I was there when the...”

 

“Demon,” Dean supplies, and Blaine looks up quickly, as though he hasn’t realized until now that Dean is here too (which... okay, is a little insulting, considering the fact that _Dean_ was the one who did most of the rescuing earlier that night).

 

Still, all things considered, they are handling this whole cursed-to-fuck-by-a-lust-demon thing pretty well.

 

 “I was there when the... _demon_ was making it,” Blaine continues, fully focused once more on Kurt.  “God, I should be apologizing to _you_ for putting you through this – I’m so sorry, Kurt.”

 

“Hey, no,” Kurt murmurs, shushing Blaine with two fingers pressed to his lips.  “If I don’t get to apologize, neither do you, okay?”

 

And then they’re both smiling tearfully at each other and trying to stop each other from apologizing while each trying to apologize, himself, and fucking hell, Dean can _feel_ his teeth rotting.  He’s almost grateful (almost) when the searing heat returns, even worse this time, shooting through his body as if his blood has been replaced by acid.  His back bows from the sudden onslaught of agony, and he knows that Kurt’s feeling it too, because Kurt suddenly goes tense and lets out a low, harsh cry.

 

“Oh my God,” Kurt gasps out, clawing at Blaine’s shoulders with shaking hands as he frantically starts working himself on Dean’s cock again, still looking guilty as fuck.

 

For a moment, sheer panic flickers across Blaine’s expression.  Then he flattens his lips and presses his and Kurt’s forehead together, and says, “It’s okay, Kurt – God, you look so hot like this, like you’ll die if he doesn’t fuck you harder.”  He reaches down, and surprises the hell out of Dean by gripping Kurt by the hips and actually moving him back and forth, helping Kurt fuck himself on Dean’s cock.

 

Which, okay – what?  Not that Dean’s got any moral high ground when it comes to relationships, but he’s definitely not expecting this.  He doesn’t stop pounding into Kurt (he’s not sure he could, even if he wanted to), but he does look up over Kurt’s shoulder to meet Blaine’s gaze, and _oh.  Hello._ Blaine’s eyes are like flinty with accusation and suppressed rage, like it’s _Dean’s_ fault that this is happening, like Dean should have protected Kurt better.  But then Kurt whimpers softly, and Blaine blinks, and by the time he’s looking at Kurt again, there’s nothing but desire and concern in his eyes.

 

“Oh, Kurt, that’s it,” Blaine murmurs in a low growl, as he plasters his whole body against Kurt’s so that every time Dean thrusts into Kurt, he shoves Kurt up against Blaine, who ruts back, keeping Kurt trapped between them.  “God, you’re so hungry for it.  I should let you bottom more often, shouldn’t I?  But I’m greedy.  I love your cock too much.”

 

Kurt whines, high and helpless, and kisses Blaine with a feverish fervor, wrapping his arms around Blaine’s neck to pull him even closer.  If not for the way Blaine’s still slamming Kurt back onto Dean’s cock, Dean might as well not exist.  He’s never been in a threesome where he’s felt so superfluous before (see, Sammy?  He knows some big words too), and it should probably bother him, but it’s actually... surprisingly hot just to watch the two of them, watch Kurt’s hips stutter as he tries to get fucked and to hump Blaine (who’s still got his fucking _clothes_ on, Jesus, where did Kurt find this kid?) at the same time, and watch Blaine kiss down Kurt’s neck and suck deep bruises into his shoulder.

 

But that could just be the demonically-induced heat pulsing through his body.  Dean’s pretty sure that he could find two dogs fucking to be hot right now, and wow, that thought doesn’t even _phase_ him, holy shit.  He can feel his orgasm coming, welling up in his belly and pouring out into his limbs, replacing the spell’s acidic heat with something just as hot, but sweeter and not accompanied by pain.  He chases that sweetness desperately, fitting his hands over Blaine’s on Kurt’s hips and _ramming_ his ass, not even caring if he’s too rough or if he’s going to leave bruises.

 

He feels Kurt shudder and tighten around him, then he hears Blaine say, “Kurt, are you close?”

 

Kurt’s mouth works, but he’s too breathless to get words out.  He nods instead.

 

“Dean’s close too,” Blaine says, acknowledging Dean directly for the first time since he woke up.  “I want to fuck you once he’s done.  Would you like that?”  Moot question, it seems – Blaine doesn’t even wait for Kurt to finish saying ‘yes’ before he continues, “I bet I’ll be able to just slide in; no fingers, just his cock out and mine in.  I’ve never been able to do that before – you’re always so tight, even after I stretch you.  But Dean’s pretty big, so I think I’ll be able to do it this time, don’t you?”

_Shit!_ Well, Kurt clearly seems to like the idea, because he’s all of a sudden practically bouncing on Dean’s cock, groaning and keening and riding him hard and fast.  Dean’s orgasm hits him like a blow to the gut, literally knocking the air from his lungs.  The spell bleeds out of him within seconds, leeching heat from his body in such a rush that he feels like he’s been shot.  He barely registers Kurt pulling off his dick – hell, he couldn’t tell you his own name for about ten seconds – but he does hear the loud, dull _thump_ as Blaine’s back hits the upholstery with Kurt on top of him.

 

“Off,” Kurt orders in a voice that’s almost a snarl, splayed between Blaine’s legs with his hands fisted in Blaine’s shirt.

 

For a moment, Blaine just stares up at him, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.  Then he bursts into movement, yanking off his shirt while Kurt works on his pants at speeds that are actually kind of impressive, considering how sex-crazed they must both be by now.  Kurt doesn’t bother to get Blaine’s pants down any farther than to his knees before he straddles Blaine’s lap and positions himself, both of them shouting hoarsely as Kurt sinks down on Blaine’s cock.  

 

They stay locked together, panting harshly, for a few seconds.  And then Blaine says, “Kurt?” and Kurt nods, and they both start moving again, slowly at first, but then faster and faster, Blaine spreading his legs as wide as he can to give himself the leverage he needs to thrust up into Kurt, and wow, if Dean thought that Kurt had ridden _him_ hard, it’s nothing compared to what Kurt’s doing to Blaine now. 

 

Dean stares helplessly at the live action gay porn taking place before him, not sure what he should be feeling right now.  On the one hand, it’s kind of making him a little uncomfortable, because _geez_ , what the hell are they _teaching_ children these days that teenage boys from Ohio know how to do _that_ with their hips?  But on the other hand, he’s pretty sure that he’s never seen two people more desperate to fuck each other’s brains out, and the fact that they’re dudes and Dean’s not gay doesn’t actually make it any less hot.

 

It doesn’t take more than a couple of minutes for Kurt to come, head thrown back and screaming his boyfriend’s name as he jerks and shudders before collapsing onto Blaine’s chest, his back heaving with every loud, rasping breath he takes.  Blaine comes seconds later, Kurt’s name on his lips and his hands so tight on Kurt’s hips that he’ll definitely bruise later.  They murmur quietly to each other as they – and Dean can’t believe this – _hold hands_ , until they both kind of sag against the seat and pass out.

 

Dean watches them for another few seconds, before he grabs his discarded jacket and settles it over Kurt’s back.  If not for the fact that they’re both covered in sweat, spit, and each other’s come, they’d almost look sweet, cuddled together and sleeping like this.  As it is, though, Dean really hopes that he doesn’t get stopped by any cops tonight.  He isn’t sure there’s a fake ID in the world that would explain why he’s in a car that reeks of sex with two naked teenage boys in the back.

 

He puts his pants and shirts back on, folds the front seat back up, and retrieves his phone.  He sends Sam another text, _Nvm, took care of the problem.  ETA 15,_ and turns off his phone before Sam can call and ask him if he just fucked two underage boys.  As he restarts the car and pulls back onto the road, he thinks, _well, I always thought my ‘gay threesome’ would involve more lesbians, but at least that’s one thing crossed off the bucket list._

 


End file.
